


Pink Boots

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Lonely Harry, Lots of rain, Louis is a playwright, M/M, Pining, Rain, Some angst, They meet at a bus stop, loads of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:33:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>There was nothing else on the street. The dismal weather may or may not have been amplified - Louis didn't know. Nor did he care. All he knew was green eyes and red lips and faded pink boots. The same green eyes that always seemed to be looking right through Louis. The rain that fell when they met was the same rain that witnessed the empty eyes brim with life once more.</em><br/><br/>Or the one where Harry's eyes are always empty and Louis just really wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink Boots

_"His own opinion, which he does not air, is that the origin of speech lie in song, and the origins of song in the need to fill out with sound the overlarge and rather empty human soul."_

_\- J.M. Coetzee_

 

Louis hated public transportation. He avoided it at all costs, even going so far as to walk to places when necessary. Sure, the nearest bus stop was only down the street, but he would rather walk to a destination than sit in a cloud of cologne that people would use to cover up the fact that they hadn't showered in three days. It just wasn't ideal for Louis, is all. Not to mention the amount of angry whispers that mothers would make trying to control their five-year-old, or the unsettling noises the crazy man in the back made in attempt to have a conversation with himself.

Don't get him wrong - he enjoyed sound. Really, he did. But when it came to listening to a noisy teenagers phone call, or the comforting crunch of gravel beneath car tires, he preffered the ladder.

 

The odd texture scrubbing his hand woke him up first.

 

Before he even cracked an eye open, he noticed the pounding of water at his bedroom window. At first, he thought it was the neighbor again, overshooting the pressure of his water hose and accidentally watering Louis' window rather than his prescious roses or daffodils or whateverthefuck his neighbor grew. However, the pounding didn't stop. He finally decided to open his eyes, already fixating on the window.

Oh.

It was raining. _Really_ raining at that. Tiny droplets of water drummed against the side of the flat, almost sounding out a rythym that Louis was far too tired to let his ears pick up. He finally looked down to whatever was scrubbing his hand and let a grimace form towards his cat.

"Off, off," He told the thing, moving his hand to shoo her away. She glared at him with an intensity that would've scared Louis, had he been more awake. However, she merely meowed at him before hopping off of the bed and scampering towards the kitchen. Louis sighed, letting his head fall back amongst the pillow once more. He wasn't looking forward to going to work. Well, if you wanted to call it that.

See, Louis was a playwright. And he loved it with all of his heart, but he was currently lacking inspiration for his next work, which typically didn't bode well with him. The thing was, he loved writing plays. So when he didn't have any inspiration to write anything (which believe it or not didn't happen very often), he grew sort of antsy. That being said, his plan for today was to walk about town. Try out new diners, revisit old ones, take a stroll around town and maybe even see a movie or two. He didn't know. That was the magic of having a very loose schedule. 

He started writing at around 14, and soon realized he wanted it to become more than a hobby. He had always enjoyed acting aswell, but when he was helping with a school production and the choice was to either go on stage or help with the script, he no doubt chose the latter. He always enjoyed the praise that came with it, too. Could you blame him, though? There was always more of a thrill from knowing those were _his_ words being brought to life on stage rather than bringing them to life himself. And even now, he still had a special place in his heart for acting, but there was just... something else about pouring your heart onto a page and watching your soul take the form of words. There was this feeling of - not only accomplishment - but security you got from letting other people transform your words and phrases and sentences into gestures and looks and actions. It was similar to the feeling you get after you've told someone you love them for the first time after keeping it secret for so long. As soon as they reciprocate those feelings you feel secure, confident, if maybe a bit shy at first.

Not that Louis would know, really.

See, that's the thing. Louis had experienced everything from climbing the highest mountains to swimming in the deepest oceans. From a fleeting romance to a regrettable one night stand. Louis had even experienced dread and fear and even something as simple, yet complex, as hate.

He hadn't necesarily known what love was like.

Sure, he watched his fair share of rom-coms and saw his parents kiss and hug and give each other presents and he even watched one of his sisters fall in love and get married. Louis only had one real relationship in his life, and even then, they were more best friends than anything. They still kept in touch, even if only around the holidays. Still. Louis couldn't help but feel he was missing out on something. On something that too many songs were about, too many TV shows were based on, and too many books were centered around.

Love.

_Love._

The word even sounded weird bouncing around in Louis' brain. Did he know what it was? If a dictionary definition would suffice, then yes. Could he identify it in other people? Occasionally. Had he ever felt it? If you count his mum and dad and sisters, then yes. Louis had felt it.

He got himself up from his bed, excusing all thoughts of what he did and didn't have as he quickly went through his morning routine. It was only 7:30a.m., but Louis wanted to get an early start on the day and, if the rain was anything to go by, the weather would only get worse as the time went on. Plus, he found that inspiration came to him most in the early mornings and late at night.

It was about 8:00 when Louis finally pulled himself from his flat and opened his umbrella to block some very persistant rain. He was about halfway down his street when he realized that it was... strangely empty. There weren't many cars whizzing by and - not to much surprise, actually - there was no one on the street.

Well, _was_ no one on the street. That is, until Louis reached the bus stop. He noticed a strange sitting under the awning, one hand picking at a loose fabric in his jeans, and the other holding his phone face-down against his thigh. Originally, Louis was planning on simply walking to the nearest diner. But plans change, right? Especially when you have no one waiting for you at home and no one expecting you anywhere, really.

Louis slowed to a stop once reaching the bus stop, and this sudden realization came upon him that he had no idea what he was planning to do. Was he going to talk to the stranger? Maybe compliment him on his curls? Fuck. This was a stupid idea. Shit. He would've kept walking, but he was already standing there awkwardly so he should probably just sit under the awning that was provided. Yeah, like that person was doing. Yeah.

He sat down and folded his umbrella, taking note of the faded pink boots that the man wore. It was almost sort of endearing, actually. Louis had a sudden urge to get to know this man and every single bit of him. To pick his brain apart piece by piece and learn every heartbreak, every memorized movie dialouge and every cherished song that was held in this man's brain. Attempting to satisfy some curiosity, Louis turned his head to the right slightly, to take a peek at his facial features.

And there was almost no word to describe him. He was... stunning. Absolutely, incredibly stunning. Probably the most gorgeous man Louis had ever seen. He was looking down, still picking at a loose strand of fabric on his impossibly tight jeans. He hadn't looked up or anything when Louis stopped and sat down right beside him. He didn't awknowledge it in any way and Louis was starting to wish he had, becasue then at least they'd have a conversation topic. 

Conversation be damned. Louis would be completely content to merely sit here and admire the stranger's good looks. He had dark, curly hair that framed his head rather nicely, actually. Even from the side, Louis could see his stunning green eyes that shined bright against the cloudy sky, and his bitten red lips. He had a long torso and even longer legs, and suddenly Louis wondered how someone even functioned with limbs that long. Despite the stranger's near flawless body, Louis couldn't help but focus on his eyes. His wondered how eyes that beautiful held so much emotion, yet still managed to look... Empty? Was that the right word for it? Dull, maybe? Either way, it managed to lightly tug at Louis' heart. Someone so beautiful should't look so hollow. Especially if that someone was now staring straight at Louis.

_Shit shit shit._

"Can I help you?" The stranger suddenly asked. Although that question would've sounded rude coming from anyone else, Louis suddenly decided that almost nothing could sound rude coming from the man with faded pink boots.

"Yeah. I mean- no. I just - I, um," Louis looked back out at the rain, light drops dusting his rain boots and the occasional rogue splatter hitting his knees.

"I was wondering if you know where the nearest coffee shop was?" 

What.

Louis had lived here his entire life. Ever since he was in diapers he had run around his backyard while his mum video taped from somewhere in the background. He knew this town like the back of his hand. He could even recite to you a list of shops from least busy to most busy during holiday season or not. 

Point was, he didn't need to ask where the nearest coffee shop was.

"Uhm," The man started, furrowing his brows slightly, "No, I don't. Sorry. I, uh, I just moved here, so. 'M not too familiar with the place yet."

Louis nodded, and was only half-joking when he silently opted to drown himself in the nearest puddle, when he realized that this was the perfect opportunity for a conversation.

"Oh, really? Where'd you move from?" The stranger's eyes widened for a second before Louis added, "If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"Uh, Holmes Chapel?"

"Holmes Chapel to Doncaster? Well, that's not much of a move is it? Just under two hours away from each other?" Louis commented, hoping to continue this for as long as possible.

The man shrugged, looking slightly frantic for a second, "Yeah, well. It was better for work. Commute wise. Hadn't much tying me there anyways, you know?"

No, Louis didn't know. But he wanted to.

There was another thing. The way the man spoke was almost entrancing. His words were syrupy like molasses, or honey. Yeah. Definitely honey. Slow and sticky, but also sweet and melodic. Louis could listen to him talk all day. And why didn't he know this man's name yet?

He hummed a note of awknowledgement before asking, "So you've always worked here, then?"

the man simply looked at him with big eyes, Louis almost growing uncomfortable under the intense stare.

"Or you're starting a new job?" He asked the sentence tapering off as he wondered if he'd struck some sort of chord with the man. 

"You ask a lot of questions."

Well.

Okay.

Yeah, Louis did ask a lot of questions. He had always been like that, though. He didn't remember a time when he wasn't curious about one thing or another, questions flowing from his mouth as easily as blood flowed through his veins. 

Instead of trying to explain this to the stranger, he merely shrugged, "I like knowing things."

The man nodded, a small smile curving his lips as he turned his attention back to the pounding rain that, normally, would've distracted Louis from a conversation just for the sake of watching the droplets fall. Now, however, he had something - more like _someone_ \- new to watch. Someone who captured his attention far more than any other weather circumstance could've. 

Louis felt a bit of dissapointment in his heart at noting that the conversation was basically over, and wondered if there was any way to re-initiate it when-

"I'm Harry, by the way."

Louis turned back to the man - _Harry_ \- who had his hand outstretched, waiting for a handshake. Louis easily shook it, trying not to marvel over the fact that their hands fit so perfectly together. 

"Louis."

His eyes flickered to where the bus was coming, just down the street and a sudden panic rose in his heart. 

"Looks like your bus is here," He noted, flicking his chin in the direction of the vehicle. Harry looked at the bus, then back at Louis, "Do you think... Well, like. Are you going to be here every morning?" 

Harry's lips quirks in a small smile, "From Monday 'till Thursday. 'S when I work."

Louis nodded, "I guess I'll be seeing you here pretty often, then."

The empty eyes briefly held life, "I guess so."

The bus came to a stop right in front of them, and they both made to stand, "Maybe I'll show you around sometime. Y'know, since you're new and stuff." Louis added as Harry picked up his umbrella and messenger bag.

"I'd like that, Louis."

Louis tried to hide his excitement as Harry boarded the bus and didn't look back once. Not that Louis minded, of course, because he had millions of ideas swarming around his head, giving him just the kick he needed to start a new play. He hurried back home and immediately sat down at his computer, wet clothes and all, typing out everything he remembered from that nothing-short-of-magical conversation he just had with a man named Harry. 

The whole experience was about 11 pages long, which was just fine with Louis as he now had new material.

Also, he may or may not have gone to sleep that night thinking of red lips and empty eyes and pink boots.

 

...

 

_The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live._

_\- Norman Cousins_

 

Louis was jolted awake by the sound of his ringtone bringing him back to life. He scrunched his brows in confusion for a second, and upon realizing he fell asleep on his laptop yet again, he sighed. He found his phone and placed it to his ear, murmuring a quiet _'hello?'_ while leaning back against his chair and untucking his feet from his bum.

"Oi! Are you sleeping? Bloody hell, mate it's hardly ten o'clock."

 _And normal people are usually asleep by then, even if that means having keyboard imprints on their faces,_ Louis silently noted.

"And what are you doing, then?" Louis asked, already knowing the answer from the pounding music on the other side of the call. 

 He vaguely recalled that it was a Monday, and he wondered why Zayn would be out tonight. Who goes out on a Monday? Louis wasn't one to turn down a good party, and he wouldn't go out on a Monday. Long story short, no one went out on Monday's.

"I'm at work, sweating my fucking arse off. It's hot in here."

Oh, right. Zayn just got a new job at that club across town. Despite the club bringing in a lot of revenue, the town overall objected to the idea of building a club right where a church used to be. However, somehow the vote ended up getting passed because Doncaster didn't have many places to go out to and dance anyway, so in the end it's where all of the teenagers and new adults flocked. Louis had only been there once, and well, he couldn't lie. It was pretty fucking wicked.

"Sounds lovely," Louis contributed. The line went silent for a second and Louis pulled the phone away from his face only to see that - no, Zayn hadn't hung up. "Everything okay over there?"

"Huh? No, yeah, everything's fine," Zayn said, "Look, Lou. I was just calling to see if you had time to come down later. Or maybe we could hang out sometime during the week or something. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Louis' cat (Her name was Minnie by the way - courtesy of his youngest sister and her Mickey Mouse phase) started purring around Louis' ankle. He looked down as a deep wave of guilt and regret tugged at his heart and clawed at the inside of his throat. He knew he had been avoiding his friends and family, he wasn't going to deny that. It was just something that the special people in his life didn't seem to understand. When Louis felt overwhelmed by work or his family or just life in general, he skirted phone calls and text messages. Yes, he knew it was a bad habit, but as much of an extrovert as he was, he liked being alone. He enjoyed being left with his thoughts occasionally. 

And, okay, it had only been about a week since him and Zayn hung out, but still. Louis would've been fine not hanging out him for another week or so. Phone calls were as much "hanging out" as Louis needed, to be quite frank. It was hard to explain to people. He loved his mates, but he also enjoyed occasional alone time. Technically he was an extrovert, but sometimes he just needed to take a step back from the scene. And weather  that "taking a step back" involved holing himself up for two days or two weeks, well, only time could tell. And Louis. But that was beside the point.

Rather than yet again try to relay this message, he merely sighed, "I know, Zayn. I'm sorry, I've just been really swamped with work lately."

When Zayn didn't respond again, Louis wondered why no one ever taught him proper phone etiquette. 

There was another thing, though. No one really... Took Louis' job seriously, per se. Yes, they knew he loved reading and writing but whenever he claimed to be "swamped with work" everybody simply nodded their heads or hummed in agreement, while their eyes remained skeptical. Okay, sure, being a playwright doesn't involve a 9 'till 5 schedule like most jobs, and it didn't come with uptight bosses or aggrivated co-workers, but it was still a job. It got Louis' words on stage and when they didn't do that, they got him royalties, and sure he didn't have an office, but there was no denying it was a legitimate job.

Then there was the fact that whenever he was back home and he claimed not to have enough money for something, his family would ask him didn't he just got rich off of his last Off Broadway play? Louis would always try to remind them that it didn't work like that and just getting a play on stage doesn't get you automatic money and, no, mum, nobody had offered to make his play into a movie yet. 

And, of course, the cherry on top of the crapcake was when Louis' stepdad would genuinely ask, "Hey, have you found a real job yet? I know a guy..." Even though Louis was almost 26 years old (one of the youngest to have an Off Broadway production, thank you very much), Mark always "knew a guy" who was hiring somewhere for something and it always paid consistently.

So, yeah. There was that. He didn't get much respect. But. Oh well.

He reached down to pet Minnie's head, her tail wagging with pleasure as she purred. 

"Sure, We'll hang out sometime. How about Friday?" 

Loyis could almost hear Zayn's smile as he started talking, "Sounds great, Lou. Text me, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I love you."

Louis rolled his eyes fondly, "Love you too, Zayn."

He hung up after saying a final goodbye, Minnie jumping up into his lap and curling her warm body over his thighs. Louis sat there stroking her for a few moments before turning his attention back to his laptop and reading what he had written so far. 

He felt himself get slightly flustered at the way he described Harry's features, his speech pattern, and his potential dexterity. Louis wasn't lying when he said that he noticed how large Harry's hands were and how they seemed even larger when he was holding his cell phone. Although the boy's limbs were fairly big, they didn't seem to be... Syncyed up. As if he wasn't expecting his body to get that big and didn't necessarily know how to handle it all, despite dealing with it for his entire life. Louis could see it now - the boy tripping over his large feet and knocking mugs off of coffee tables because he overestimated the distance from his hand to the mug. He could see him running into the corners of desks because he occasionally forgot how big his feet were. It put some sort of warm blanket over Louis' sparsely-used heart and he found himself staring at his computer screen fondly, even though it went black two minutes ago.

 He couldn't stop thinking about Harry's _eyes_ , though. They were beautiful and bright, but not with life. They glistened like they were used to sadness and sadness and sadness, but grew so accustom to it that they simply glazed over and didn't allow light to shine through anymore. They looked hollow and empty, and despite only having one conversation with the man, he wanted nothing more but to fix that. He found himself wondering what Harry was like as a child and weather it was circumstances that took the life force out of him, or his own disposition.

Either way, it provoked a completely uncalled for twitch of anger in Louis' heart, thinking that maybe it was a some _one_  and not some _thing_ thattook the light. Needless to say, he didn't like the idea.

Minnie looked up at him when he unknowingly stopped petting her, and just shooed her off as he went to his bed; he intended to write a bit more, but there was a crook in his neck that suggested otherwise. He made sure to refill Minnie's food and water, opting to take a shower tomorrow morning because he suddenly felt exhausted. 

And if you asked Louis, it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with empty eyes and red lips and faded pink boots.

 

The next few bus-stop conversations passed in a relative blur, hours turning into days turning into weeks turning into months and Louis didn't know where one conversation started and the other one ended.

However, two things were for sure:

1\.  Louis and Harry had exchanged numbers somewhere over the course of the first week.

2\. Louis quite fancied Harry and he hoped it wasn't obvious.

See, the thing was though, is that Louis didn't normally just _fancy_ people out of nowhere. I'm fact, he almost didn't at all. Louis Tomlinson was the last person you'd think of when you think of developing immediate feelings of becoming head-over-heels rather quickly. Not that Louis didn't meet every now and then and think, 'Well they seem like a nice person to have a chat with.' Because, he did, but he just never acted upon the actions. Either because he didn't feel like it, or the feeling just wasn't that strong or whatever else it could've been.

In the end, the strong emotions Louis had already come to associate with Harry was quite scary. Was it normal for Louis' heart to skip a beat when he saw _Harry <3 _appear on his phone screen? Was it normal for Louis to fall asleep, suddenly bothered by the fact that there was no one in his arms? 

Well, normal or not, Louis could at least admit to himself that he wanted to spend some quality time with the lad at least. So, when Zayn called him on Thursday night confirming their plans for Friday evening, he decided to text Harry.

 **To Harry <3:** _Are you doing anything tomorrow night?_

 **From Harry <3: ** _Nope. All free :)_

Louis fondly rolled his eyes.

 **To Harry <3: ** _My mate and I were planning on heading to the pub. Care to join?_

And thus stated the reason Louis found himself squished in a booth between Zayn and Harry, two other lads from Zayn's job on the other side. Louis didn't know them very well, but he soon learned they were almost polar opposites. The blonde lad (Niall? Neil? He'd been hearing it both ways all night) was loud and chewed with his mouth open, not even waiting before he swallowed all of his food to start washing it down with a beer. The lad sitting right next to him (Louis was sure his name was Liam, even though the blonde kept  referring to him as Payno) wasn't exactly quiet, but he was far more mellowed-out than the blonde. They were both funny and seemed to know how to have a good time, and despite the differences in all five of them, they were all enjoying themseles.

The only problem - of course - was Harry. See, Louis had hardly seen him wear anything besides pink rain boots coupled with black skinny jeans and a Green Bay Packers hoodie. So sitting right next to time while he wore a sheer black button-down and a pair of black skinnies that _didn't_ have holes in them, tied up nicely with a pair of mustard boots... It was insulting is what it was. He looked so pretty, so dainty, and Louis didn't know what to do with himself. He had been good at keeping his hands to himself so far, but as the night wore on and the amount of drinks increased, well. Louis could easily blame it on his intoxicated state if his hand slipped over to Harry's thigh once or twice. Or three times. Or four. But were numbers important anyways?

 "Oi, Tommo. Were you even listening?"

Louis snapped his attention forwards, "Sorry?"

Niall cracked a smile while Liam just giggled into his drink, Zayn forming a frown at Liam. Okay.

"What do you do for work? Ya know, to bring in the dough. You the bread-winner in your house?"

"I love bread," Came a voice from Louis' left.

He snorted, "You love bread?"

"Yeah. Who doesn't love bread?" Harry asked, incredulous to the suggestion that there might actually be people out there who don't like bread.

Zayn shrugged from Louis' right, while Louis was having a hard time breaking eye-contact with Harry. He looked so pretty tonight. Had Louis already mentioned that? He should tell Harry. His eyes shonee with the dim light. Not as bright as maybe Niall's, or his own, but still. It was there and it wasn't there the past few times they had seen each other. So, that was something.

"Bread is alright, but. It's not me favorite," Zayn said, a new drink in his hand. Where did he get that?

Liam looked like he was seriously contemplating Zayn's comment, his eyebrows scrunched as he studied Zayn's face. Harry, on the other hand, looked horrified as if someone had just personally insulted him. 

"Bread is everyone's favorite, Zayn. Don't be ridiculous," This comment came from Niall who sat back down with a pile of nachos. Wait, he left?

"Zayn, you clearly need to eat more bread," Liam's words were already beginning to slur which was not good considering he was supposed to be the designated driver, as he put a hand atop Harry's which was resting in the table. "Our Harry here seems like a bread enthusiast, so I think we should all order Zayn some bread, yeah?"

Louis felt a flare of jealousy flicker in his heart as his gazed bored into their clasped hands. He put his left hand on Harry's thigh, squeezing gently. Harry smirked and dragged his hand from off of the table and around his drink, taking a sip. Louis still didn't let go of his thigh.

 The rest of the night continued on, everybody talking to someone about something, and whaddyaknow, they actually managed to get Zayn some bread. Sometime throughout the night, Harry's hand had drifted so that it didn't link with Louis', but it rested lightly on top. Strangely enough, Louis found himself smirking lazily with self-satisfaction. This night was going fairly well, if he were to say so himself. While Louis was yet again caught up in the enigma that was Harry Styles, there was a group consensus to join the rest of the crowd on the dancefloor. Some song heavy with bass and lacking in lyrics was blasting through the speakers, and Louis vaguely wondered how he hardly even registered it before. 

Before he knew it, they were all dancing. Niall by himself, Liam with some girl, and Harry and Louis together. Of course. And Zayn was... Where was Zayn?

"Hey!" Louis tried telling over the music, "Have you seen Zayn?"

Harry started to shake his head, and then stopped, choosing to nod instead, "Right there." 

Louis looked over his shoulder and found Zayn leaning against the bar talking to a girl with purple hair and impeccable fashion sense. He turned back to Harry who was already staring back down at him. He put his scorching hands on Louis' waist and leaned down to whisper in his ear, Louis feeling a strange zip down his spine.

"Wanna get out of here?" 

Louis didn't even consider saying no. Harry grabbed him by the wrist and lead him outside, the fresh air slightly sobering them up. Harry stopped to spread his arms and take a deep breath of the crisp, winter air. As Harry closed his eyes and faced his head towards the sky, he reminded Louis of a Disney princess. He didn't exactly know why, but he was starting to envision the lad in a large, sparkly dress, little birds around him helping him sew up the patches on his clothing. To another man, picturing Harry in a dress might've been a turn-on. Hell, picturing Harry in _anything_ was a turn-on, but for some reason, in this context, in was nothing short of... Endearing. He could see Harry's hair up in a bun, taking a stroll through the forest in maiden's clad. He could see him taking tentative steps into a large ballroom, his hair pulled up in contrast to his large, sparkly blue dress. He could see him sleeping in a glass case, waiting for true love's kiss to wake him from a long slumber. Most of all, though, he could see Harry being friends with forest creatures, singing the most beautiful tunes as an evil witch became jealous of him and turned to her magic mirror for comfort.

The thought of Harry being so beautiful in a Disney cartoon brought literal tears to Louis' eyes and - _wow_ , he really should not have drank so much. Harry's big doe eyes opened and looked towards Louis as if he sensed the change in the atmosphere. Despite Louis thinking it several times that night, he just couldn't get over how breathtaking Harry was. His lips were stained red in the most beautiful way, his pale skin contrasted by his dark curls and bright green eyes that held more life than Louis had ever seen in them.

"Snow White," He breathed out for no reason, a bit too drunk to be immediately embarrassed. 

Harry scrunched his eyebrows and tilted his head as if to say _'what?'_

Louis shook his head, not being able to stop the fond smile from seeping through his eyes and plastering itself on his smile. They walked side-by-side for awhile, and half a block down, Louis realized he had no idea where they were headed. _  
_

"Where're we going?" He was surprised at how lucid his sentence was.

"I'm showing you where I live," Harry stated as if was obvious.

"You live near here?"

Harry nodded, "I used to live in Cheshire. Holmes Chapel."

Louis didn't remind Harry that he already knew this, just nodded along, shoving his freezing hands into his pockets. He wondered if Harry's hands were warm.

"Moved here after my mum died."

Wait. What? He thought Harry moved here because the commute was better? Didn't he just start a new job? He thought Doncaster just better suited Harry. What? His mum died? No, no. Louis should not be hearing this while he was a bit drunk. Tipsy? What was the right word? Either way. They should've been discussing this over a cup of tea, maybe in a café somewhere. Or maybe they would be sitting on the couch together, waiting for their movie to load and Harry decided on a whim to tell Louis. Basically, this was not the right situation to talk about something as serious as this. 

"Oh?" Was all Louis managed, despite the non-stop flow of thoughts through his head. The air became heavy and Louis refused to make eye contact with Harry.

Harry nodded and added in a voice hardly above a whisper, "She finally decided she had had enough of everything."

Louis swallowed. He didn't like the implications that came along with that. There was a beat of silence and a shaky breath.

"I found her, y'know."

Another beat. There was a tight lump in Louis' throat.

"Bedroom door was locked. Had to kick it down."

Louis couldn't stop the breath that was knocked out of him, "Holy shit." He looked over to see Harry staring at his feet, as silent tears streamed down his cheeks. There was no tell in Harry's voice, though; no suggestion that he had been crying. His voice was as even as ever and as cool as the other side of the pillow, and Louis would be lying if he said that didn't worry him.

"Called the ambulance. It was too late." Louis wondered if Harry was really even talking to him anymore, or just verbally reliving the past.

Harry shrugged and looked at Louis, "You're the first person I'm telling this to, actually."

Louis' eyebrows rose, "Me? First? But - don't you have a sister?"

Louis almost didn't notice how all the light in Harry's eyes had completely gone, and it was back to that glazed over, impossible-to-read state. He started to wonder if the light had ever been there in the first place.

Harry took a deep breath and tears were now steadily flowing down his face when his voice cracked, it almost relieved Louis, "I did, yeah. She, um. She was in a drunk driving accident a few years before my mum... died. She didn't have her seatbelt on. Was in a coma for a few days. Died on the third night." 

"Oh my God, Harry," He stopped in his tracks and pulled Harry into a tight, lung-crushing hug. He had no idea so much sadness could be held in one person's heart. Well, he heard stories about people's hard lives and he read them in the magazines and saw them on the news, but. It was different knowing a person who had suffered great losses rather than hearing about it from a media outlet. Louis couldn't even imagine the pain that Harry went through every day just knowing that this happened not only to people he knew, but his own _family_. Louis' heart felt crushed and saddened and the pain that he felt was worse than any other heartbreak or disparity he himself had ever experienced. He quickly scanned through all of the sad moments in his life (it was a bit fuzzy, though, because who says alcohol doesn't effect your mind?) and they suddenly didn't seem so sad anymore. He couldn't complain, really. He still had his mum, his step-dad, and his multiple sisters. For a moment, he tried to visualize what life would be like without them and he just felt even worse by the thought as he buried his face into the crook of Harry's neck and breathed deeply, trying to gain some semblance of reality back.

"Do you have any other family?" Louis found himself ask. He felt Harry stiffen, and he suddenly didn't want to know the answer.

"My, uh. My dad left when I was four. And then my step-dad left right before Gemma died."

There was another pause.

"That was her name. My sister. Gemma. I-I don't really know anyone in my extended family or anything. Never got 'round to paying them a visit," Harry let out a dark chuckle, and Louis signed shakily.

They stood in silence for a few moments, Louis completely dumbfounded by all of this new information. He felt Harry's ribcage rising and falling heavily, each breath seemingly painful. 

Louis placed a light kiss to the joint between Harry's neck and shoulder, not thinking too much about how Harry relaxed into the gesture. 

"Let's get you home, yeah?" He whispered. Harry let out a weak sob and then nodded, untangling himself from Louis. Without much - or any, actually - protest from Harry, Louis kept a strong hand around his waist the entire way back, still letting Harry guide the way. It was hardly a block later before they found themselves in front of Harry's flat, and Louis ambiguously wondered if he was even drunk at all anymore. His question was answered when he stumbled at the first step on the path up to Harry's door. 

Louis didn't exactly know when he was supposed to leave, but he found himself not wanting to. And, yes, he was aware that it was partially due to the fact that Harry had just told him what was most likely the saddest story he had ever heard, but still. There was more to Harry than that. He could see it. He wanted to bring it out, to show it to the world and let everyone know that Harry Styles is just a good fucking person. He's gentle, he's sweet, and Louis was determined to see Harry's eyes brim with life once more, even if it was just an illusion the first time. 

Harry led them up to his bedroom, not even bothering to turn on the lights before he flopped onto the bed and immediately started bawling into the pillow. Louis' heart lurched as he crouched beside Harry and carded his fingers through the thick curls.

He didn't exactly know what to say. He hadn't ever been in this situation. He didn't exactly know what to say.

"You're so brave," was the first thing that slipped out of Louis' mouth. It took both of them by surprise, and it only racked more sobs from Harry.

"Harry, please," He started, but he didn't really know what he was asking for. Surprisingly, Harry started to calm down a bit, his sobs quieting to a stop, until he was just breathing heavily against his pillow. Louis didn't even realize he had been crying himself until he looked down and saw paint-splattered tear drops on his shirt. Louis placed a kiss on top of Harry's head, and as his breathing evened out, Louis took that as his cue to leave. A strong hand on his wrist told him otherwise.

He looked down to where he was kept in place by Harry, and his eyes drifted to the bed where Harry's eyes were now on him.

"Stay?" Louis bit his lip, (as if he was even going to consider it) when Harry let out a small, "Please."

He nodded, and when Harry's hand disconnected from his, he went around from the other side of the bed and lied down there, resting his face towards Harry's back. Harry turned around almost immediately, snuggling into Louis' chest, as Louis wrapped his arms around him. He couldn't help but think this was slightly funny considering Harry was the larger one and they were still in normal clothing. Despite being slightly intoxicated, Louis knew he couldn't blame the fuzzy feeling in his chest on the alcohol. Oh well.

He didn't need to think about that for the time being. All he needed to think about was pulling Harry impossibly closer so that he felt small puffs of air against his collarbone, and he placed one last kiss to the top of Harry's head, smiling to himself when Harry made a small hum of contentment. He tried to keep his thoughts light and positive as he drifted to sleep.

 

...

 

_Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky._

_\- Rabindranath Tagore_

 

When Louis woke up, it was to sunlight that should've been prettier, clothes that should've been more comfortable, and heat that should've been more bearable. He stirred for a few moments, and then choked on something when he tried to take a deep breath.

Hair.

Hair?

Had Louis' hair actually grown that long, that it was now down to his nostrils? He could've sworn, he just got it cut the other day. He blinked lazily until the room stopped swimming and - oh. This wasn't his bed. Nor his hair, actually. It was much curlier and much darker, and, actually, even smelled better. That's when all of last night's events came rushing back into his mind and he saw flashing lights and drinks, then a light breeze of air, touching and comforting and crying. The last thing he remembered was Harry grabbing his hand for some reason. Oh, right. He wanted Louis to stay. Right.

Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Louis stretched his neck to get a better look.

Ah, yes. The pink boots. Louis smiled at the inanimate objects, as he recalled that Harry didn't wear them to the bar last night.

His pounding headache suddenly intensified, and it wasn't actually even that bad compared to his hangover last week.

Last week. It seemed like forever ago, yet two months seemed even further down the line. Harry had known Louis for two months and Louis found himself completely smitted with Harry for two months. Despite Louis' mind telling him that wasn't a good thing, his heart rejoiced at the idea. He looked down and found comfort in the fact that we're both were still fully-clothed. 

Not that he hadn't toyed with the idea of his skin against Harry's skin and their lips meeting somewhere in the middle. Because he had. A lot. Plus, Harry was basically his dream guy. He was fit, quirky, quite adorable, and everything that Louis wouldn't even have thought to wish for before he knew Harry. Like the craters in his cheeks that formed when he smiled, or how he blushed and ducked his head when Louis complimented him even in the simplest ways. Things that wouldn't have effected Louis with any other person, now made his heart flutter in every way. Like the nautical theme Harry seemed to have going on in his bedroom. And a picture of three people (who Louis could only assume were Gemma, Harry's mum, and Harry himself) on his nightstand that Louis could see while peering over Harry's shoulder.

Louis suddenly wondered why he hadn't detached himself from Harry yet. 

He had one arm draped over his waist and the other underneath a pillow. Harry's face was still tucked into the crook of Louis' neck, his small breaths fanning over Louis' collarbone. Their legs were intertwined in a way that Louis would only assume platonic pals wouldn't do. He suddenly remembered his hand on Harry's thigh as they sat next to each other at the bar, squeezing it slightly when Liam put his hand on Harry's. He almost felt embarrassed, but he vaguely recalled feeling Harry's hand on top of his. He smiled to himself, then suddenly wondered if Harry would mind waking up in his arms. Should he wait here until Harry wakes up? Would he remember last night? Should he leave and then text him later? Shit. He was really bad at this. The only time he remembered waking up in a bed that wasn't his own, was long, long ago in the land of Louis' "Lost Fucks." Yes, he did actually call it that. 

 Before he could think any further, however, he felt Harry stir in his arms. He looked down, seeing Harry's eyebrows crease, and his eyelashes fluttered and Louis vaguely thought, _Yeah. I could get used to this._  

Harry didn't open his eyes yet, even though Louis could tell he was awake, as he snuggled further into Louis' chest, then froze.

"Louis?" A groggy and sinfully deep voice asked.

"Yeah?" 

"You're still here." Shit. He knew he should've left while he had the chance. That's what he always did with his one-night stands. Left the second he awoke. Only, this couldn't  necessarily qualify as a one-night stand considering they didn't even have sex. Not that Louis was complaining. He'd take Harry in any way -  sexual or not.

"'Course," He responded. After a silence he added, "Had to make sure you got to sleep okay." 

Harry hummed a note of contentment and pressed his body even closer to Louis'. Louis swore he felt a small smile being pressed into the crook of his neck, and took it as a good sign. Although Louis was far from his own flat (what side of town was he even in?) he found himself feeling far more at home than he would feel waking up any other morning in his empty, but used, bed to feed his indifferent cat and run insignificant errands. It was a cycle. Harry's breaths started become more and more even, and Louis was convinced he had fallen asleep again, when he murmured,

"It's hot."

Louis couldn't help but let out a small giggle that slightly ruffled Harry's curls, "Well, yeah, that's what happens when you fall asleep in skinny jeans and a blouse."

Harry pulled back to look Louis in the eyes, "You mocking my fashion sense, Tomlinson?"

"Well, I'm not _not_ mocking it, if that's what you mean."

Harry's gaze burned Louis' eyes, and for a second he thought he had actually offended the younger lad, when he burst out laughing and out his face back into Louis' neck, his lips dangerously to pressing a kiss into the skin there. A flash of heat went down Louis' spine at the thought. They lapsed into another silence, a more comfortable one this time, and it was just the sounds of light breaths and the occasional shift of posture. Despite Harry having just complained about the temperature, neither made an attempt to move. It was quite nice, actually. Louis was quite content to stay like that, only -

Harry gasped, quickly shuffling away from Louis and to the other side of the bed, his eyes completely blown out.

"Harry? You okay?"

Harry slowly turned to Louis, from his now sitting up position on the bed, and Louis immediately missed the warmth that Harry radiated.

"You know."

"I know what?"

"What did I tell you last night?"

Silence.

"Did I tell you-?"

More silence.

"Harry, look-"

"Oh my God, no, no I wasn't supposed to say anything. You weren't supposed to know," Harry started mumbling incoherent sentences into his hands, and Louis scooted across the bed and held him in his arms once more.

"Louis, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Louis, of course, was extremely confused. Okay, yeah, Harry remembered that he kind of spilled his guts to Louis last night, but Louis had nothing against that. Really, he didn't. He was almost glad it happened, because he wanted to get to know Harry. Sure, it wasn't exactly ideal that the both of them were intoxicated, but they didn't do anything rash, right? Louis approached the situation as best he could, holding Harry until he fell asleep after the pillows had soaked up most of his tears.

"Hazza," _Where did that nickname come from?_ , "It's perfectly fine, love. It's okay."

Harry's breaths started to even out. He kept shaking his head, though, as if there was something that Louis didn't understand quite yet.

"You can trust me, Harry. You know I'm not going to go tell anyone."

There was yet again another silence and it didn't sit well with Louis. He had never been one for silence anyway.

"That's not what I was worried about."

Louis almost jumped at the sudden words, "Well, then what were you worried about?"

Harry looked Louis in the eyes, and for the first time, he could see everything.

He remembered watching a TV show with his sister when she was younger, and a man who time-traveled could make people see and feel everything he did by touching their foreheads together. The man would need to communicate something important to someone else and instead of just telling them and hoping they understood, he touched his forehead with the other person's and suddenly the other person would just know. They would have new memories and their eyes would be opened to whatever situation was at hand. That's what this moment felt like. Just looking into Harry's eyes, he could suddenly see every heartbreak, every fear, every cold night spent alone and he got it, he _understood._ But, at the same time, he couldn't. He couldn't possibly understand, because he didn't lose his family, did he? His mum didn't take her own life and none of his siblings had gotten into fatal car accidents. It would always just be one of those things that Louis would always be on the brink of understanding, but would never actually understand. And, okay, maybe it did anger him a bit, even if he didn't necessarily want to understand because that would include heartache and internal screaming and so much pain he wasn't sure he could ever comprehend.

Harry's gaurd was down, and his eyes weren't as glossy as they usually were. The green wasn't as dull as it usually was, and even though there was still no light, it wasn't as dark. It was like standing in the middle of a pitch-black room for your whole life, and then someone replaced the extremely thick curtains with sheer ones. So not all light got through, but there was more light than there was before, shedding much needed clarification onto a misunderstood part here and an underappreciated part there. It was different shades of enlightenment, is what it was.

"I just didn't want you to know."

Of course, Louis knew that was a cop-out and that he was going to need Harry to explain the real reason later. But, for now, he would take it.

Instinctively, Louis' hand came to cup Harry's jaw, Harry leaning into the touch, "I really like you, Harry. Nothing is going to change that."

Harry's eyes started to get glossy, but it wasn't the usual empty glazed-over glossy. It was more of an emotional glossy.

"You mean that?"

"Yeah. I do."

Harry sighed, shutting his eyes and pressing a peck to Louis' palm, and Louis could feel a zap from his hand all the way down to his toes and through his head. Maybe Harry was magic. Louis realized then and there that he never wanted to stop touching Harry. Well, he already knew that before, but this was different. The "Completely and Totally Platonic" atmosphere had changed into a more "Not Totally Platonic, but Still Just Friends" atmosphere. Yeah. That was probably the best way to describe it. Louis let his hand drift to the back of Harry's head and tangle in his thick, yet silky curls. Harry took a deep breath and practically purred upon exhale, which had Louis' heart flutter in a way he hadn't felt before. He tugged lightly, silently reveling when Harry's jaw went slack and his eyelids fluttered, but stayed shut. How could someone be so beautiful, yet so sinful at the same time? Fuck.

"My step-dad never liked me very much."

Harry's eyes blinked open and they were heavy-lidded and had gone dark.

Louis' only internal dialouge at that moment was: _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

 "Hm?" 

Louis took a breath, still threading his fingers through Harry's hair, "My stepdad didn't really like me very much. I mean, he tolerated me. We never talked much, though. Especially when I brought a boy home for the first time. He wasn't homophobic or anything," He shrugged, "Just wasn't fond of it, 's all."

Harry's expression sobered up, and Louis could see the gears turning behind his eyes, "What're you doing?"

Much to Louis' dispair, he dropped his hand from Harry's locks and rested it on his thigh, pretending not to notice how Harry's eyes widened for a second.

"You've told me about you life. It's my turn to tell you about mine."

Pause.

"Lou, you don't-"

Louis pressed a finger to Harry's lips, "Hush, child. I insist."

Harry giggled, and if Louis' heart fluttered for the millionth time that morning, well then, no one had to know but him.

"I was two when my dad left. I don't know him very well, and frankly don't want to, but every once in awhile he tries to get in contact with me. Probably just to reassure himself that he's not a totally shitty person. I don't know. Anyways, um, my mum got remarried when I was about ten, and then popped out a ton of children. I've got five sisters now."

Harry widened his eyes and let out a low whistle.

"I know, I know," Louis chuckled, "And another set of twins on the way."

"Wait, _another_ set of twins?"

"Yeah. Two of my sisters are twins. And then there's a boy and a girl on the way. She's really excited."

Harry nodded, and seemed to be contemplating all of this as if it was a crutial matter. His eyebrows were scrunched and he was peering into Louis' soul with an intense stare. He told Harry a bit more (all of the bits and bobs, really), Harry laughing at all the right parts and asking questions about everything he was unsure of or needed clarification about. It was nice, actually. Louis couldn't remember the last time he layed his entire life story out for someone else's pick and choosing, including Zayn. Only, Zayn had known Louis for almost four years now, so he basically knew Louis' everything by heart. He didn't think that he ever told Zayn that he accidentally pissed his pants from laughing to hard on a class field trip in seventh form.

Harry was clutching his stomach from laughing so hard, "Are you serious? Seventh form? On a class trip? Lou, that's hilarious!"

"Okay, no, it actually isn't. I was mortified!" Louis was trying to convey how embarassed he was on that day, but it was quite hard when he himself had to keep tears out of his eyes from laughing too hard and Harry was already past that point, and was it even that funny?

"Actually, the worse part was-"

Harry clamped a hand over Louis' mouth, "You have told me far more than I have told you." They were both still calming down from their laughter, Harry finding the crinkles by Louis' eyes breath-taking.

"Well, I like talking to you," He said, removing the hand from his mouth. Harry simply smiled again; only, a different smile. It wasn't so much an "I'm Laughing at Your Expense" smile, it was more of a "That's Really Sweet and I Love You" smile.

_Love._

Was that what Louis was feeling? Love? No, no. It couldn't be. It was far too early in their relationship for love. They had known each other for two months and only spent a handful on nights together apart from phone calls and texts. Louis couldn't possibly be in love with Harry already. That's what his brain was telling him, anyway. His brain was telling him to calm down because he wasn't in love with Harry - no way. However, his heart was saying the exact opposite. More stories were exchaned until their stomachs rumbled from the lack of food and they realized that they were still in their clothes from last night. Louis felt kind of icky all of a sudden, realizing that he was probably sporting three different layers of dry sweat.

After a delicious breakfast that Harry insisted on making (could Louis really say no to eggs, toast and a good cup of tea?), Louis found himself standing at Harry door, car keys in hand, getting ready to head out. He really didn't want to leave, and his heart clenched when he fit his hand around the doorknob, but he had about a million different sentences swimming in his head - all potential play material. He was quite excited, actually, except for the part where he needed to leave Harry.

"So, uh. Thanks for the breakfast and everything. I think I'll head out now."

Harry poked his head from around the corner of the kitchen, still washing their plates from breakfast, as he wiped his hands on a napkin and walked over to Louis asking, "Already?"

Louis nodded weakly, and suddenly felt quite inferior as Harry approached him. Before breakfast, Harry persuaded Louis into taking a shower ("I'll just take one when I get home." "I am trying to be a good host, Louis, now get in the shower."), and leant him his lilac jumper and grey joggers. Louis noticed the heart eyes Harry had towards him as he stepped out of the shower, swimming in Harry's clothes, and he felt rather tiny. Which, normally, Louis would not like, but around Harry everything seemed to change, including his preference for appearing larger than he actually is. Harry on the other hand, decided to forgo a shirt all together and opted for a simple pair of sweatpants. It shouldn't have been as hot as it was.

"You sure you can't stay a bit longer?" Harry asked, setting his hands on Louis' waist when reaching him. 

And okay.

He wasn't sure if this was a bribe or not. Either way, he had really been trying not to get hard in front of Harry all morning and desperately tried keeping his thoughts away from what it would feel like to trail his fingers down that long torso. Considering he felt his plan failing as his cock twitched in his pants at the simple heat of Harry's body so close to his, he wasn't too keen on the idea of coming in his pants right then.

"Sorry, love. Plays don't wright themselves," He was only joking, but he saw a downwards tilt to Harry's mouth and immediately corrected himself, "I'll call you, yeah?"

That seemed to perk him up a bit, and Louis still wasn't convinced that Harry wasn't an actual cat.

He nodded, "Okay."

Louis made to move, but Harry kept his hands firm on Louis' waist, causing Louis to quirk an eyebrow.

"Um, I just," He scratched the back of his neck and took a minuscule step back, "I wanted to thank you. For, uh, dealing with me. Like, last night. When I kinda had a," He cleared his throat, "Breakdown or whatever."

Louis just kept his eyebrow raised, but softened when he added, "So. Thanks."

Harry had his hands clasped behind his back, as he watched his toes dig into the suddenly very interesting carpet. He looked so bashful, and the whole thing was really sweet. Louis' chest almost felt on fire as emotion swelled for this boy and he thought to himself, _Yes. Yes, this is the boy I am in love with,_ not even bothering to correct himself. He reached out and squeezed Harry's elbow, taking pleasure when he looked up and his eyes were smiling.

He suddenly wanted for Harry to see the affection in his eyes, "I'll call you, Haz."

Harry grinned and nodded, going to open the door, and no more words were said as Louis made his way to his car, vaguely hoping that the rain wouldn't mess up Harry's awfully nice jumper.

And of course it was raining. Only, this rain seemed different. It wasn't like the rain that was falling when he and Harry first met - no, this was much different. This rain felt lighter, and it almost seemed to be more vibrant in color. It fell with purpose, as if each and every drop held a life and a story. It saddened Louis to think that that story ended the second the drop hit the ground. What if it didn't have to, though? What if when a rain drop fell and was absorbed into the Earth, it continued making a path in the dirt until it reached Earth's core? Yeah, that was a better story. See, by then, the drop will have reached it's maximum capacity for excitement in it's life. It would get farther than any human has been - it would go all the way down to the core and be able to dissipate with a steady beating in it's heart, knowing that everything that could've been done in life, was done.

That's what this rain felt like. A stark contrast to the purposeless rain that drenched Louis' hair the first time he was met with downturned eyes and pink boots. He liked it, though. He really really liked it.

His thoughts stopped being very fluffy, though, as he walked back to the bar parking lot and got into his car, turining the ignition, remembering Harry's bare torso.

He put his foot on the gas pedal.

_Louis traced over every faded scar and hidded birthmark on Harry's upper body, hot breath mixing together and creating a sensation like neither of them had ever experienced. Their lips collided, tongues dancing and saliva mixing._

Louis slammed the brake pedal, nearly colliding with the car in front of him, causing the driver to honk at him. Louis smiled sheepishly and mouthed 'sorry' as the driver flipped him off in his rearview mirror. He really needed to get his thoughts together if he wanted to make it home alive. The light turned green and he turned his steering wheel to the left. _  
_

_Harry closed his eyes, his breaths getting choppier as Louis kissed down his neck and sucked a bruise right above his collarbone. He secretly couldn't wait until Harry went out somewhere, showing his lovebite for everyone to see that he was taken. Louis smirked as he felt Harry's hand grip his arse._

Louis shuffled a but in his seat, desperately trying to keep his cool. He needed to focus. He took a deep breath as he reached another red light, jumping in shock the second he saw the tent in his - Harry's - joggers.

"Fuck," He muttered under his breath, pressing his foot to the gas pedal once again. He felt a static in his bones as he suddenly grew impatient; there were only two more streets 'till his house and it was too many. He took one hand off of the steering wheel and slowly pressed it against his throbbing erection, letting out a soft moan as he palmed himself.

Finally, he made it home, bursting throught the front door and making sure to lock it before rushing to his bedroom, nearly tripping on Minnie who just scowled at him. Not that he cared though, because he was on a mission. He flopped onto his bed, licking a stripe over his palm and then shoving it down his pants toet some much-needed relief on his straining cock. He squeezed the shaft, then started pumping fast, already feeling his orgasm pool in his stomach. He imagined Harry's full, plump lips, and his huge hands roaming all over Louis' body. A few minutes later, He came with a gasp and a shout, immediately feeling way too exposed considering he just moaned Harry's name for the entire neighborhood to hear.

Embarassed or not, Louis lied sprawled out in his bed, not even trying to hide his shame when his cat jumped on the bed, grimacing at him before curling up on a pillow.

"Don't judge me," He murmured to the creature, choosing to move off of the bed to clean himself up, getting ready for his second shower that day.

 

 That night, Louis found himself wrapped in a blanket in front of his TV (that he had muted about 40 minutes ago and is not sure why it's still on) and eating Ben & Jerry's ice cream, his phone in between his ear and shoulder. He laughed at the person on the other line, setting the ice cream in the coffee table in front of him, and holding the phone to his ear.

"Only you, Harry Styles, would take into consideration the feelings of your Twix bars before you eat them."

"Well, you don't want one of them to get lonely! It's just considerate to eat them both at the same time," Harry's smile was practically radiating through the phone and part of Louis appreciated the buffer between him and Harry, because he wasn't sure if he could face Harry so soon after wanking to him. The memory caused Louis' skin to prickle with heat and he was that much more appreciative of not being face-to-face.

"You do realize that candy bars don't have feelings, right?" Louis asked, only half-joking.

"Lou, don't be so daft. Of course candy bars have feelings. They just don't express them as much as your loud mouth." Louis could hear Harry straining not to laugh, and he could imagine Harry biting his lip in that sinful way he did.

Louis' imagination started to run again, but for a different purpose this time. He could imagine Harry in his large (even for him) Green Bay Packers hoodie and sweatpants, maybe even sporting a beanie. Maybe he was still shirtless, not even attempting to fight against there sudden cold that had chilled the atmosphere of South Yorkshire. Louis fleetingly wondered if it was warmer up north. Probably not.

He chuckled, "Excuse me? Did you just say that I had a loud mouth?" 

"Maybe."

"Okay, well, I wouldn't be talking Mr. I-Always-Sing-As-Loud-As-Possible-in-the-Shower."

There was an immediate burst of laughter from the other side, and Louis could feel Harry's smile, not even needing to see his eyes to know that they didn't look empty. That was a change that happened over the course of their two-month friendship. Harry's eyes weren't so empty anymore, and his laughs weren't hollowed-out and fake. When they first met, Louis spent their entire conversations contemplating just _why_ his eyes never had any light to back them up. Now, however, the only time Louis would witness the light leave Harry's eyes was when he thought no one else was looking. And, yes, it did worry Louis a bit, but as long as he could make Harry laugh and smile and feel good about himself, then that's all he needed.

"Don't lie, you love my shower singing."

_I love you._

Rather than dropping that truth-bomb, he just opted for a fond sigh and a small chuckle, "Yeah, I do."

There was silence on the other end, but not an uncomfortable one. Louis could only hope that Harry was grinning just as fondly as he was.

There was a slow intake of breath, "Well, it's getting late. I should go. Early shift tomorrow and everything."

Louis furrowed his brows, "Early shift? Tomorrow's Sunday, you don't have it off?"

"Nope. Bakeries tend to get even busier on Sundays, believe it or not, so. They need all the help they can get." 

Louis nodded, and then realized Harry couldn't see him, "Okay. Well, maybe I'll drop in and say hi at some point."

Another pause and then a quiet tone.

"Yeah, I'd like that." 

Yet another small pause.

"Okay, then. I'll, uh, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Louis."

"Goodnight, Harry." 

Louis hung up, not even bothering to stop the huge smile that spread so far across his face that it actually hurt his cheeks. He sat there for a moment, staring at his muted TV which now seemed to be airing an episode of "FRIENDS." He thought for a few seconds, thinking of Harry and everything lovely that came along with him, and let himself be lulled along by his thoughts. 

Minnie hopped onto his lap, purring once Louis placed his hand on the back of her neck and scratched softly. It reminded him of when he tugged at Harry's curls that morning and he made a mental note to introduce Harry and Minnie to each other some time soon. He felt like Harry would appreciate it. Louis picked her up, holding her while he went into the kitchen and made sure she had enough food and water for the night, feeling very hopped up on love. After he deemed Minnie's supplies ample for the night and possibly the next day, he placed her on her bed in the corner of his room. He made sure to leave the door ajar, so that she could sneak out at night and he tucked himself into his comforter, wearing Harry's jumper, not admitting that he just really liked how it smelled. 

For the first time in a very long time, Louis found himself missing a certain warm weight in his arms as he drifted off, letting his mind drift to pretty eyes and rosy cheeks and pink boots.

 

The next few weeks were spent with Harry at Louis' house, and then Louis at Harry's and if there were an inbetween, then they would've found it. Of course, just as Louis imagined, Harry loved Louis' cat, and it was ridiculous that Louis once felt a small twinge of jealousy when Minnie was curled up in Harry's lap, and he stroked her soothingly while they were sat in front of Louis' television, trying to catch up on multiple reality shows ("You watch _Keeping Up With the Kardashians_?" "Everybody watches _Keeping Up With the Kardashians_." "I don't." "Because you're too busy trying to teach ethics to your candy bars.").

It had even gotten to a point where Louis had a toothbrush and a few pairs of pants tucked away in one of Harry's drawers. Harry didn't need a drawer at Louis' place, though, because he always seemed to have a few jumpers lying around Louis' place, even ones he doesn't remember wearing, which always made him smile. Everything had been going rather smooth in their friendship, and everything was just a bit too platonic for Louis' liking. Yes, he realized that they were just friends and everything was supposed to be platonic, but that didn't mean Louis didn't want more. Of course, he loved Harry, so if Harry wanted to just be friends for the rest of their lives, Louis would take it. Sometimes. 

See, there were moments.

There were normal moments, of course, when Louis and Harry would exchange smiles and their gazes would linger for a moment. Whatever. Nothing big.

There was also moments, however, where Louis would jokingly tug on a loose curl and Harry's eyelashes would flutter before looking to Louis with a darkened stare. His eyes would hungrily roam over Louis' body and he would look up to Louis' face and his eyes would say things that neither of them had the courage to vocalize. There were moments when Zayn would put an arm around Louis' shoulder, and take it away the second he saw Harry's possesive glare at their connected limbs. Last but not least, there were moments late at night when Louis would cuddle up to Harry, draping his arms over his waist and press a kiss into the back of his neck, Harry sighing contentedly.

They never talked about those moments.

But, they didn't _have_ to.

They had an enitre unspoked language between them which mainly consisted of lingering touches and one-second-too-long stares; of suggested want and referenced need. The worst part was waking up in Harry's cozy flat, and watching him stumble into the kitchen with a halo of hair around his head and full, pink lips. No matter what time of the day, though, Harry always looked beautiful. Whenever Louis told him as such, Harry just waved off the compliment while trying to change the subject. He acted like he hated it, but they both knew Harry loved the compliments. He loved being called beautiful, so naturally, Louis would never stop calling him that.

And also it kind of drove Louis crazy. Not calling Harry beautiful, because - no, that was simple. The game that they were playing and the feelings they were dancing around. Well, the feelings Louis was dancing around, anyway. He could never be completely sure of Harry, but in moments when Harry would drop his gaze to Louis' lips and then lick his own, Louis was pretty sure he knew.

Either way, it all came down to one morning at Louis' flat. Harry stayed over after a Disney movie marathon, which Harry had insisted in having. The last time Louis saw a Disney movie was the last time he babysat one of his sisters, and even then he still didn't pay much attention. They were cute, but all it lead to was Louis trying to sing along (because of course, Harry happened to have the sing along editions) while failing to braid Harry's hair. The braids fell out about two minutes after he was finished with them, and he blamed it on Harry moving his head too much.

Louis' eyes fluttered open, and he took a deep breath, twitching his eyebrows together when the space next to him was empty. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pancakes, and smiling to himself. He imagined Harry shaking his hips to some Yoncé song, or maybe even The Beatles. One could never be too sure with Harry, just because he had an extremely wide taste in music, in which Louis pretty much only listened to two genres. 

He got up, stretching his limbs with a lethargic energy, and then went to the bathroom. He splashed warer on his face, simply opting for glasses this morning because he would have to put in his contacts later anyway, when he went grocery shopping that afternoon. Yeah, that seemed reasonable.

Eventually, he found himself leaning against the archway to his kitchen, Harry humming one of the Disney songs to himself (don't ask Louis which one, though, because he hardly remembered the movies for Christs' sake, never mind the fucking songs). Louis let his "Hopelessly Endeared" smile take over his face as he simply watched, with his hands in his pajama pockets. 

He cleared his throat, Harry startling at the sudden noise and turning to Louis with a slightly flustered expression.

"Morning," Louis greeted, his small smile crinkling his eyes.

He didn't get a response.

He didn't get a response, because Harry was staring at him as if he were the most beautiful creature to ever exist. He slowly put down the large bowl he was in the process of mixing, and walked over to Louis, scanning every inch of his body. Louis squirmed a bit under the intense stare and brought his eyes down to the very interesting linoleum.

"You... You're so pretty."

Oh. Well, okay.

Louis looked down at his outfit. He was wearing his own loose-fitting pajama bottoms, coupled with a jumper that was a bit too large on him. It was probably Harry's. It was a cold morning, though, so Louis didn't mind the extra warmth. It was very comfortable, aswell. And it smelled like Harry. So it was basically a win-win-win situation.

"Um," Louis started, "Thanks? I literally just found this on the floor." He chuckled lightly, fanning out the jumper before putting his hands back at his sides.

Typically, Louis was a confident and boisterous man. He always knew what to say and how to react in any social situation - you name it. However, when Harry was staring at him as if he were the only thing that mattered in the world, well then, he wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do. No words or actions came to his brain as he stood there. Harry out his hands on Louis' hips, and leaned forwards a bit, saying the most wonderful sentence that Louis had yet to hear.

"Can I kiss you?"

Louis nodded, vaguely wondering why Harry even felt the need to ask, because surely anyone could see how much Louis wanted to kiss this man everyday.

Harry pressed his lips to Louis' in a small, closed-mouth kiss. And Louis had been dreaming of this moment for ages it seemed, yet, absolutely no daydream he could've ever had would've prepared him for this. His lips were so soft, yet so plump. They tasted vaguely of berry and the image of Harry putting on chapstick made it's way into his head, causing him to let out an embarassing groan. Louis put one hand on the back of Harry's neck and pushed them closer together.

Harry reluctantly pulled back, hot breaths hitting Louis' face. They both stayed like that for a moment, just looking it each other's eyes and breathing in the moment.

"I really like you, Louis."

"I really like you too, Harry."

Harry smiled as he brought their lips together for another, more sure, kiss this time. Louis parted his lips, letting Harry's tongue swipe his bottom lip and then make it's way into Louis' mouth. It wasn't a dirty kiss, though, it was sweet, if a bit sensual. It spoke volumes of what they thought of each other and Louis was only slightly embarrassed that it made his brain go fuzzy. Out of all of the kisses Louis had experienced - from a one night stand to an actual boyfriend - this way by far the best. He could feel a lovely static coursing through his bones and dancing from his fingertips to his toes. It was the most amazing feeling Louis thought he ever had, and he would trade it for any one of his late night meaningless fucks. This meant something. This was permanent.

He paused, though, when he smelled something... Burning?

"Harry," He breathed, trying but desperately failing to push him off. Harry hummed a note of confusion, pulling away only about an inch or so, and looking at Louis with furrowed eyebrows.

"You're burning the pancakes," He giggled, as Harry started kissing down his neck. Harry snapped his attention and with a quiet _Oh shit,_ he went to the stove, turning off the burners and moving around appliances with lightening speed before he was back to kissing Louis.

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, "You're not gonna finish our breakfast?" Though there was a smile on his face and a laugh behind his voice, he was sort of hungry.

"Fuck breakfast, I could do this all day," He pulled back after a second, "If that's okay with you?"

Louis wanted to cry with how "Okay" he was with all of this. If skipping breakfast meant kissing Harry for a few hours, possibly more, then he was damn right okay with that. He made sure to vocalize as such.

"Damn right it's okay with me," They both smiled into their next kiss; passion and longing and want (and _need_ ) all mingling with every touch of lips, their kisses getting more and more passionate. Louis didn't think he had ever felt so light with love and just overall satisfaction. Harry had a death grip on his hips as if Louis would go floating into the sky if Harry let go - and for a second, he thought he would. It was ridiculous, he knew, but when he felt so fuzzy, so light, when Harry's lips were on his own, it was as if he could to anything. Nothing was impossible. 

Absolutely nothing was impossible when he was kissing Harry and when he was pressed against the wall with just how much they wanted each other. It was something else entirely. Louis loved every bit of it.

 

...

 

_"I am not a day dreamer, I am a believer, that after every painful love I have gone through, it is just an experience to crack open the deepest parts of my core and allow to me to delve into a passion so rare, that I will find a love that was almost never meant to be."_

_\- Nikki Rowe_

 

At one point in his life, Louis didn't think he'd be fortunate enough to have someone to love him. He never thought he would've been able to mark someone's skin and leave footprints on their heart and hold their hand while shouting "Mine!" He never saw a world where he would wake up by the same person's side every morning and feel his heart swell with his love for them in a new way each and every day. Sure, he sometimes imagined coming home from doing some research for work, and into the arms of a man who was his world. Sometimes those daydreams involved a few children running around the house. Okay, _most_ of those daydreams involved children running around the house. See, but that's all they were. Daydreams. Louis never once thought he'd be so lucky to see those dreams come to fruition.

Yet, as he lied beside Harry with the smell of burnt pancakes lingering in the air, and dark spots scattering his body, he could see that. Realistically, he could see it and it was so close all he had to do was stretch his hand and touch it. And it felt like softness. It felt like exactly how a dream _should_ feel. It felt achievable and realistic, and Louis never wanted to stop touching it. 

 Harry looked over to him, his eyes heavy-lidded, "What are you doing?"

Louis looked up from where he was pressing his fingertips into Harry's bicep, "Have to make sure you're real." 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows before letting out a breathy chuckle, and then opened his arms for Louis. Louis graciously accepted, scooting closer so that he was half on top of Harry, hiding his face in the crook of the boy's neck. Their limbs were tangled and their lungs rose and fell in unison and it was everything Louis didn't know he craved so bad. He never wanted to fall asleep in an empty bed again now that he knew what it was like to share one with someone you love.

Louis looked behind him to see that, for once, it wasn't raining. Which was odd. It seemed  to be raining a lot lately. Either way, it was doing nature one worse, and it was snowing. Small snowflakes lightly fell from the sky, touching their dainty prints onto the ground and slowly but surely building up. It was... Peaceful. Relaxing. It was almost hypnotic watching each individual flake fall and to know that no two snowflakes were the same? Well, that was a whole new level of mind-blowing. Every snowflake had it's own story to tell of how it fell from the sky, how long it took to fall down, and the obsticals it encountered on the way. And because Louis seemed to be such a huge sap now, he couldn't help but relate it to falling in love. It was a slow and gradual process, day by day discovering feelings that weren't quite there the day before. However, once it actually happened, you couldn't seem to remember the journey there. It was insane. Unbelievable. Yet, realistic. Louis was growing quite fond of that word. _Realistic._

He felt a sudden peck on his neck, and turned to see Harry smiling up at him.

"What're you thinking about?" He asked, tightening his grip on Louis' waist.

Louis shrugged and settled back into the crook of Harry's neck.

"Snowflakes. You."

Harry chuckled again, the feeling vibrating Louis' chest. The timing couldn't be more perfect.

"I love you," Louis announced, only slightly muffled. He felt Harry's breathing hitch and Louis was silently hoping that that was a good sign. After a few moments gone by and no response, Louis lifted his head to look at Harry, dreading the look of fear and rejection that was sure to be in Harry's eyes. Instead, though, he found... Tears?

"You don't-"

"Louis-"

They each said at the same time. They paused, Louis thumbing the corner of Harry's eyes in an attempt to stop the tears before they even started. Louis brought his lips down to Harry's in a light peck, their mouths hardly even touching.

"What were you going to say?" 

Harry bit his lip, tears starting to form again. He took a shaky breath.

"Lou, I-" He paused as one tear fell, "No one has ever told me that before."  Louis' lips quicked down, his eyes intent on Harry's glimmering ones, and he suddenly found that statement unbeliveable. How could no one have ever told this boy how much they loved him? Louis started to wonder what else no one had told him. Had anyone told him that he can light up an entire room by merely stepping into it? Had anyone ever told him how beautiful his smile was, how cute his laugh was, and how horrendous his jokes were? Has anyone ever called him beautiful and commented on just how lovely he was as a human being? Louis was almost angry with the lack of love Harmy had been shown throughout his life.

Because, see, that's not what life was. Life wasn't skating through everything with your head down with no one to pat you on the back at the end of the day and tell you that you do a good job. Life wasn't watching romantic comedies, but being unable to relate to the characters because you didn't even know what love was yourself so how could you feel it for the beautiful people on the screen? Sure, okay, not everything in life needed to be backed up with love and reassurance, but that wasn't the point. The point was that you had the option to lean back on somebody or the choice to come home and say "I love you" just because you felt like it. When Louis looked into Harry's eyes and realized he never got that chance, and he never had that option, his bones flared with anger because no one should have to go through life with no one to reassure them of their fine efforts.

"Not even your mum? Or some teenage sweetheart?" Louis only half-joked.

"Well, unless you count a girl I slept with on Prom night, then there were no teenage sweethearts," Harry chuckled, wiping a stray tear. He still remembers that night, despite being so intoxicated that he somehow convinced himself he found girls attractive. "And, um. My mum wasn't one for, uh, sentiment. So. No. She never told me she loved me."

Harry faded off towards the end of his sentence, and Louis' heart dropped to the pit of his stomach because - no, no, no, that wasn't right. Louis' mum always showered him with love and he felt extremely self-centered when he failed to consider anyone else' might be different.

 Louis took Harry's face into his hands and kissed his slightly tear-stained cheeks, then his forehead, then his eyelids, his nose and chin, stopping to plant a sweet and slow kiss on his lips.

"Well, I love you. And you deserve all of the love I could ever give you, and then some." He brought up Harry's hand and gave it a tender peck.

When Louis looked back up, Harry's eyes were glistening with new tears and his lips were trembling.

"Louis-" He was cut off when he put the heels of his hands to his eyelids and started full on sobbing. 

"Babe," Louis cooed, tenderly removing Harry's hands from his eyes. He bit his lip, looking into Harry's eyes that were still streaming with tears and he could see that Harry was slightly embarrassed.

"It's okay, love. It's okay," He repeated in between the small "sorry"'s, kissing the tear tracks on Harry's cheeks and then connecting their lips until both of them stopped trembling. Harry held on to Louis even tighter, pressing their bodies flush together as they kissed away ever open scar and every wound that still managed to bleed, even years after they thought it to be healed. Louis pulled away slightly, pushing away the fringe that stuck to Harry's head as he pecked him once more.

"Can you say it again?"

Louis was taken aback by the sudden question, but responded nonetheless. He looked straight into Harry's eyes before steadily saying, "I love you."

Harry's eyes searched Louis' for traces of doubt. "Promise?" He asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper. Louis would be lying if he said that it didn't hurt a bit that Harry needed the extra confirmation, because Louis has never lied to him. Never had and never would, and Harry knew that. But, then again, Louis guessed if he came from a household where those words were so rare and so forgotten, he might feel a bit skeptical at first, too.

"I promise, Harry. I promise that I love you." 

Harry bit his lip again, hugging Louis tight so that he had no choice but to rest his head in Harry's neck again - not that he minded, of course. They lied like that for a few moments, bresthing in all of the emotions that were blatantly obvious, and then others that were hidden far beneath the surface. Louis told himself it was okay that Harry didn't say it back just yet, because he probably needed time and Louis would give him as much time as he needed because he was already that fucking gone for this boy.

It wasn't until later that night, after being stuffed full with a recipe Louis found offline (Chicken stuffed with mozerella wrapped in Parma ham with a side of homemade mash) and stolen kisses aroumd every corner Louis turned, that he heard those wonderful words slip off a sleepy tongue. 

Louis was cuddling Harry from behind, his arms wrapped tight around the boy that, after little discussion, was officially his. He sighed contentedly, murmuring his last "I love you" of the day, kissing the back of Harry's neck because it was always nice to have a bit of consistency. His eyelids were drooping, and his limbs were becoming heavier by the second, when Harry turned around in his arms.

"I love you, too," He whispered, giving Louis a small peck on the lips. He made to turn back around, but Louis gripped his shoulder, silently asking him to stay just like that. Harry complied, snuggling up so that his small breaths were fanning over Louis' collarbone as he dozed off with a smile on his face. Louis kissed the top of his head with the little bit of energy he had left, realizing that he was far more comfortable with Harry in his arms than any night he ever slept alone.

And that's all either of them needed, wasn't it?

 _To be loved and to be in love_ , And Louis thought that would be a great title for his play.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed :) please feel free to leave any questions, comments or concerns with me! You can find me on Tumblr at new-level-of-charm


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